You
by citigirl13
Summary: "Are you telling me that what we have here, that these words and these looks, don't mean anything? That there's nothing between us?" A Hook/Emma moment. Only a one-shot.


**I actually wrote this story BEFORE I saw the picture. But I guess this is what we're all hoping for, right? I love Captain Swan so much. I'm glad the writers are actually pursuing them as a couple. I really hope they are endgame. If Neal and Emma are it'll just be...urgh. I'm sorry, but Emma and Neal are so "perfect" for each other that they actually put me off. I don't like couples who are "written in the stars" sort of thing; I like couples that are complete opposites, that are the last people you would expect to be together, that argue, because they're interesting. **

**Anyway, I'm rambling. There's probably a lot of versions of this type of story, but what the hell? I needed to write this. **

**Only a one-shot.**

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**DISCLAIMER:**** I do not own **_**Once Upon A Time **_**or any of the characters.**

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**You **

_Perhaps I would. _

Emma shoves her hands in her ears, trying to block out the noise. This time though, it's not the crying of lost children that's getting to her; the torture is coming from inside her own head. It has been for days now, ever since Hook said those words. Instantly she had pushed them away, reasoning that she had plenty of things to deal with: finding Henry, destroying Pan, keeping everyone else alive in the process. And yes, the whole thing with Tinker Bell had proved to be a healthy distraction (not including the time when Regina referred to Hook as her "boyfriend", something which she could have done without) but now his words are coming back to her. They seem to pop up at weird moments, annoying moments.

She can't deny that they are getting along. It's expected really. With David and Mary Margaret paired off and Regina brooding and muttering to herself, it's obvious that she is left to talk with Hook. And he isn't bad company. Okay, he makes flirty comments and asks stupid questions (she had found it vaguely amusing that he asked about his fictional counterpart in the real world) but he is helpful in regards to knowing the island, and takes her side in arguments. Sometimes he sides with her faster than Mary Margaret and David do.

She sits up quietly. A thought has just occurred to her. She eyes Hook who is keeping lookout, his back to her. He's a little further away from the rest of the group who are sleeping restlessly. She looks over to Regina, on this journey to save her son; to Tinker Bell not too far away from her, murmuring in her sleep, perhaps already dreaming about her new home; to David and Mary Margaret, curled up together, desperate to help their daughter and grandson; even Gold is doing this because he wants to save his grandson, perhaps because he lost Neal; but Hook? He has no family links, no ties to Henry whatsoever. Yet he's here, helping them through Neverland. No one can say that he isn't helpful; if it wasn't for Hook they would have no clue about the poisonous plants, or about the dark jungle.

If it wasn't for him, who knows whether they would all be alive.

She tosses the blankets aside and stands, walking towards Hook. The pirate jerks his head back before spotting her. As soon as he does, there's that smirk again. She wonders how many women have fallen peril to that smile.

"Come to keep me company love?" he asks.

"Something like that," Emma says. She would have preferred to sit on the other side of the fire, keeping the flames between them, but that would be too obvious that she was trying to keep her distance. Is she keeping her distance, or is she simply trying to protect herself?

Is there even a difference?

"Can't sleep?"

She shakes her head.

"The crying got to me too," he admits.

She shoots him a glance. She's used to grinning Hook, annoying Hook, flirty Hook – sombre Hook is someone that she still needs to get used to. "What I don't get is how come they can't hear it?" she asks, tilting her head towards the others.

"Only orphans can hear the crying," Hook explains. "Your parents and Regina were never abandoned; only children that have been left by their parents can hear the crying."

In a weird way, that makes sense. At least it explains why the crying kept no one else awake. For the first few nights it was terrible, and Emma would not get a wink of sleep, stumbling around for the rest of the day. She is so tired though that she now sleeps through it.

Emma suddenly realises what Hook is saying. "Wait," she asks, "you're an orphan too?"

"Aye. My mother died and my father abandoned me when I was young. Yes, I suppose I could be considered as an orphan, yes."

To her surprise Emma feels her throat become scratchy. She has to look away so he doesn't see it. For some reason the thought of Hook as a little boy, dark-haired and blue-eyed and naive of the world, being left to fend for himself, makes her feel incredibly sad. Perhaps it's because she knows what it's like to have to look out for number one, to be alone with no hope of anyone helping you. At least she was in the foster system; she has no idea what, if any, system was in place for children back in the Enchanted Forest. He's lucky to be alive.

This information makes what she's going to say even harder, but she came over for a reason. She clears her throat, trying to bring up the courage to speak. It doesn't help that Hook is watching her, a small cheeky smile on his face.

"Something wrong, lass?" he asks.

"I'm fine," she says. "Look, this is going to sound really...mushy, but I just wanted to thank you."

He blinks. "Thank me? For what?" Another smirk forms on his face. "For my gorgeous body? Well if you want to get closer, all you need to do is ask."

She holds her hand up. "Can we be mature for a moment? I just wanted to say that I know you have no reason to help us out – you're not related to Henry; in fact I'm pretty sure that you've never spoken to him. But you came back anyway, and you've taken care of us through this insane trip. You're risking your life to help us, and I'm pretty sure that we would be lost without you. So...thanks," she finishes, wishing she could sound less lame.

While she's been saying this she keeps her eyes on the ground, unable to look him in the face. Truth is, Emma hates to thank people. She doesn't even like admitting that she _needs_ people, needs their help and even their companionship. It's a consequence of surviving on her own for so long.

When she finally gets the courage to lift her head, she sees that Hook isn't looking at her at all. He's staring at the flames of the fire. In fact instead of looking smug or pleased, his mouth is turned down and his eyes are blank.

Unsure what to do – she was at least expecting a smart remark in response – Emma says, "Hook?"

"Don't thank me," he says abruptly.

Emma is beyond confused. "Why not?"

He makes a sound like he's choking down a fur ball. "I'm not selfless lass. Far from it. I'm helping you come here because I want something."

_He wants something? _Emma feels her chest tighten, and she assumes it's anger. All this time she had trusted him, sought his advice, perhaps even enjoyed his company – and all this time he has an agenda. She feels her walls come back up and she says, "So do you have any intention of finding my son?"

He doesn't move his gaze. "Of course."

"And what happens after that?" she demands. "Are you another vulture, wanting Henry for something else?" She knows she's in danger of waking the others up, but she doesn't bother to lower her voice.

Hook looks at her, and she recognises the fire in his eyes – after all, it's probably in her own gaze. "My God," he swears, "you are the most ignorant person I have ever met."

"Am I?" she snaps. "C'mon then, why are you helping us? What is your big reason for coming here? What do you want?"

"You."

The words silence her; in fact they seem to silence the entire jungle. All the anger that was building inside her like a volcano has disappeared. Her stomach now seems bottomless, like she's falling through thin air. He has raised his gaze to her, his eyes now cool and calm. To her though, he seems almost threatening.

She stands. "I'm not listening," she answers.

She hasn't taken a step away before he is on his feet too. "Why?" he asks. "Are you afraid of what might happen?"

"I have to find my son," she replies. She is wishing that she hadn't bothered coming over to him, not if he's going to be like this. "I don't have time for this."

"Is that your excuse?"

"Henry comes first."

"You will use any reason not to take a chance: Henry, being the sheriff, have being betrayed."

"I _was _betrayed." She is determined to remind everyone about this. If she's hesitant in love, nervous about letting go, then it's because she's been burnt before. When someone leaves you for a stint in prison with a baby, it makes you more than cautious.

"We all have Swan. But at some point we have to take a chance. I would never have thought I would say this, but the Crocodile is right: you don't take leaps of faith."

"I'm here, aren't I?" she asks. All the while she is aware of his body closing in on hers. She should move. Her mind is telling her to move her feet, but for some reason she is frozen, her eyes on him.

"And you would rather be anywhere else." He takes a step forward, and she doesn't bolt. "C'mon love. Are you telling me that what we have here, that these words and these looks, don't mean anything? That there's nothing between us?"

She thinks of his eyes on her as she passes him; his words, soothing and comforting, charming and cheeky. "Nothing," she answers, though her throat has closed up so much that she sounds breathless.

He is now so close to her that if she shivered she would touch him. "You sure about that?"

She wants him.

It hits her like a ton of bricks. His legs are brushing against hers and if she took a deep breath her chest would touch his. She's surprised that she wants to. She wants to throw her arms round him, to feel his muscles. She wants to wrap her legs round his waist. She wants to feel his chest against hers, pressing her against his body, feeling his heartbeat. It's not so surprising that she wants to sleep with him. Since Neal she hasn't really trusted anyone else, and for her, sex didn't come without trust. Perhaps she and Graham could have been happy together, but of course that didn't work out. Her eyes and looking at his body and her body is crying out for him.

She finds herself looking at his lips. Usually she doesn't like men with a lot of facial hair, but she finds herself wondering what it would feel like. To feel those bristles against her skin as she leant forward. To feel his lips brush over hers. To feel his tongue dip in her mouth. To give herself over to him.

Emma isn't thinking as she leans forward. She notices that Hook moves a little closer to her, though his eyes are wary, waiting for her to run. _She _is waiting for her to run. But something is overwriting her defence mechanism, and instead of turning away her hand moves onto his clothes. She feels his arm go across her back, pulling her closer. Their noses brush against each other and their lips are so close, she can feel his breath against her skin and she closes her eyes –

A shriek pierces the jungles, shattering everything including the moment. And Mary Margaret's voice, terrified, calls out, _"Emma!" _

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